


Eyes Front

by garbage_dono



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hair Braiding, Hurt/Comfort, Season 7 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: During a quiet moment, Krolia and Kolivan comfort each other after escaping the ruins.





	Eyes Front

**Author's Note:**

> Well this ship took me by surprise. I couldn't shake this idea after seeing Kolivan with his hair down...
> 
> Spoilers for season 7, but nothing major other than the fact that Kolivan and Krolia are still alive.

It always surprised her, how long his hair really was.

He kept it meticulously groomed, tied and twisted out of the way. For how far down the back of his neck his hair reached, Krolia had never once seen it obscure his vision or snag in the midst of a battle. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen it like this, loose and tangled. It wasn’t like him.

She let out a sigh, and Kolivan’s ears barely twitched. “These wounds aren’t nearly as bad as they look,” he said.

Her sigh turned into a huff as she separated one strand of long white hair out from the rest and twisted it around to form the next notch of the braid. “Keep still,” she commanded him softly. “I’m concentrating.”

The faintest upturn at the corner of his mouth was all she got before he lowered his head and obscured her view of his face. He said nothing more than that – no terse reminder to respect his rank or insistence that she shouldn’t be wasting valuable energy tending to him when he could manage on his own. He just folded his hands in his lap and allowed her to continue.

Strand by strand, she reconstructed the braid, keeping it tight and neat. His hair was finer than she’d ever realized, and a few pieces slipped from between her fingers and escaped. No doubt he would go back and redo his himself when there was time. But for now, this would be enough. It would be a relief to feel ready to face anything that might come again.

But more than that, with every turn of her wrist, she watched Kolivan look more and more like his old self. Each gentle pull seemed to restore a tiny bit of his strength and agency after it had been so cruelly stripped away.

Maybe that was a lot to expect from a simple braid that was only barely respectable. But it was something. They took the small victories where they could.

He was statue-still, and Krolia noticed that his eyes had closed when she caught a glimpse of his reflection in the ship’s console. When that happened, she wondered? His brow was pinched. “How’s the pain?” she asked, already knowing what he would say.

“Manageable,” he said. Of course.

She let another strand of hair slide between her fingers and gave it a deft twist. She put on what Keith had once flippantly called her _mom voice_ and asked again, more softly, “Kolivan…how’s the pain.”

Her fingers stilled in his hair for a moment as he sighed, his shoulders slumping. He turned to look at her again. “It will pass,” he said. “Pain always does, sooner or later.”

She pressed her lips together and continued her work. There were only a few inches left to go, but she couldn’t let herself get sloppy. “Once I’m done here I’ll see if I can find more of the salve in the medical kit. It will at least help with the smaller injuries.”

He started to protest, no doubt to insist that it wasn’t necessary, that they shouldn’t be wasting the scant resources they had available, and that he had managed worse before with no first aid to speak of. She didn’t let him. “You’ll be more useful if you’re not in as much pain. It’s as simple as that.” And for good measure, she added: “Sir.”

He closed his mouth again. He was frowning this time, but there was a flash of relief in his eyes.

The next few dobashes were spent in silence, save for the thrumming of the engines and the quiet sound of Kolivan’s breathing. It was strained – not surprising, considering the cracked ribs he’d suffered – but barely audible even to her attuned ears.

He had had a long time to perfect the art of hiding his own pain.

Her chest tightened as she remembered the sight of them – all of those blades buried in he wall of the cavern. It was a tiny fraction of the agony Kolivan must have felt when he had watched them die firsthand. She focused on the task at hand, despite the growing knot in the pit of her stomach.

Another two twists between her fingers and the braid was nearly done. Her mind wandered.

Ragna, Korsin, Alon, Byx…they had all been good soldiers. Loyal, strong, without fear. She wondered how they had met their end. Had it been quick? Had they seen it coming? Had they realized they were facing it when the druids had surrounded them?

There was Allana, and Preek, and Hancor. Krolia had trained them herself. Allana had faced down her trial with a broken arm and hadn’t let it slow her down one bit. Preek had been the only one to come close to outmatching Krolia when they sparred. Hancor had been fond of trimming his nails with his blade – she had never managed to break him of that horrendous habit.

Not to mention Antok. And Thace. And Ulaz. They had lost so many. When she had seen Kolivan’s blade embedded in the stone she had thought they were lost entirely-

His hair slipped from her fingers, undoing at least the last ten braids. She cursed.

She managed to redo three of them when Kolivan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet that it barely matched the rumbling engines: “Were you thinking of them too?”

She didn’t need to see his face to know what she would find there. Mourning. Regret. Guilt. As if there was anything within his power that he could have done to save them. She knew there wasn’t. He did too. But it didn’t help.

With a sigh, she answered him honestly, “I have been for a while.”

“It doesn’t do any good to wallow in your own grief, Krolia,” he told her. “The only way out is forward.” He turned to face her, enough to look her in the eye, almost pulling the braid from her hands again. “I really do wish I could take my own advice sometimes.”

She reached for him, almost out of instinct. Like it was all she could do. Her palm pressed against his cheek, her thumb, tracing across the scar under his eye. His eyes closed as he let out a muted grunt.

It lasted just a moment, and then she pressed against his cheek to turn his head around again so that she could get back to her work. “Forward,” she said with a nod. “So I can finish this.”

“Of course,” he muttered with a soft sigh. “Forward.”


End file.
